


Haunted

by CatWingsAthena



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, And takes a while to happen, Because Mac is still very much around, But I think it ends at an okay place, But he did technically die, Career Ending Injuries, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, In which I try to write complicated interpersonal dynamics, The "chose not to use archive warnings" is because I'm not sure if this counts as MCD?, The Jack/Diane is very much in the background, ghost au, i don't think so, so be aware
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-01-02 17:49:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21165668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatWingsAthena/pseuds/CatWingsAthena
Summary: "Oh, hell no. I did NOT move into a haunted apartment."Or: the one where Jack gets hurt badly enough to send him home from Afghanistan, only to find out that Riley's in prison, his injury is career-ending, and his new apartment is haunted. Could this situation get any worse?(Luckily, it could get a whole lot better. And does, when said ghost turns out to be a former bomb nerd who is completely uninterested in haunting and very interested in trying to help Jack get his life together.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody! I know I said I'd do a sequel to my alien AU, but I've had this idea forever and it's October, so I figured I'd just do it now, especially since writing I'm Gonna Make This Place Your Home gave me the confidence that I can actually finish it. 
> 
> This chapter is basically just setup--we get into the fun stuff in chapter 2. And yes, I changed up the timeline a bit, but the show itself plays rather fast and loose with those, so I think I'm in the clear :)
> 
> This chapter contains references to prison, nightmares, and implied PTSD. Hope you enjoy!

“You didn’t have to do this, y’know,” said Jack as Caleb Worthy pulled a suitcase over the threshold into Jack’s new apartment.

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t’a done it for me.” Caleb went out to get more stuff. “You should sit down.”

“Like hell I will.” Jack walked with Caleb to the pile of stuff that sat on the curb and picked up a small box. Walking slowly, with shaky, limping steps, he got it inside and dropped it on the floor.

“There’s no shame in not being able to do everything just yet,” said Caleb. “You got hurt protecting... what’d you call this one, Tadpole? You’re probably the only reason he’s not coming home in a box. You can rest up a bit. You’ve earned it.”

Jack ignored him.

Caleb nodded. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay.” Jack had no intention whatsoever of picking up the phone. There was nothing wrong with him that he couldn’t handle on his own. This wasn’t like last time. This time, his body was hurt. His mind was  _ fine. _

...

After they’d finished unpacking and Caleb left, Jack watched TV for a while, ordered pizza, took a shower, watched  _ Die Hard _ for the million and first time, and generally tried to distract himself from the fact that he would have to go to bed soon.

He knew the nightmares would be bad tonight.

_ Not _ that that meant there was anything wrong with him. He’d seen a lot of shit, that was all. It was inevitable.

He shivered. The room felt much colder than it should at the prospect.

To distract himself, Jack checked his phone.

To his surprise, there was a text from Diane, of all people.

<Heard you’re home. Call me when you get this. There’s something I need to tell you.>

It had been sent two hours previously.

Jack debated calling in the morning. It was late, after all. But if Diane was texting him, it had to be important. And he could only think of one thing that would be important enough to merit her reaching out that way.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Jack picked up the phone and called Diane.

She picked up on the first ring.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s Riley,” said Diane. Her voice sounded dead. “She’s in prison.”

...

Jack lay in bed that night and tried, unsuccessfully, to process.

His little girl. Okay, she wasn’t  _ his,  _ and she wasn’t  _ little _ anymore, and she was old enough that she couldn’t even really be called a  _ girl _ —but damn if it wasn’t a near thing.

Nineteen. Barely old enough to be tried as an adult. In a supermax. One year into a five-year sentence.

Apparently, she was in for hacking the NSA. Somehow, Jack wasn’t surprised. He’d always known that Riley’s stubbornly independent personality and slightly terrifying computer skills had the potential to be a dangerous combination.

Somehow, he’d just never thought she’d get  _ caught. _

Jack’s thoughts were interrupted by a clanging sound.

_ Must be something wrong with the AC. Or maybe the water pipes? _

Jack fell asleep, too exhausted to give it any further thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack meets the ghost haunting his apartment, and they discover something they have in common.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! This chapter contains some swearing (blanket warning for that from here on out), as well as references to nightmares and guns. Hope you enjoy!

The next day passed in a similar fashion.

Jack started looking for work. He wasn’t sure what he’d even do, but he knew he had to do _ something, _otherwise he’d go crazy. Problem was, Jack wasn’t meant to be behind a counter or desk. He was meant to be out in the field, doing stuff that mattered, that got his blood pumping.

He’d get back to that as soon as he could. But his leg and back wouldn’t let him, for the time being. He was still stuck in that brace, still trying to navigate the world without his body cooperating the way he was used to.

After a dinner of leftover pizza (leftover pizza had also been breakfast and lunch, but no one was around to judge), Jack went to bed.

...

Around two in the morning, Jack jolted awake, breathing hard.

He remembered the nightmare that had woken him in fragments, which was odd. Usually, he remembered dreams that woke him up in vivid, searing detail.

Unless something external had woken him.

Which his instincts told him something had.

That chill was back in the air.

_ It’s nothing, _ Jack tried to convince himself. _ Just an overactive air conditioning unit or something. _ Jack sighed. _ Yeah. In November. _ It wasn’t even that warm out. Low 70’s, nowhere near air-conditioning levels. He hadn’t even bothered to turn the unit _ on. _

Then, the clanging from the night before started up again, interspersed with nasty metal-on-metal scrapes.

The hair on the back of Jack’s neck stood up.

_ Oh hell no. I did _ not _ move into a haunted apartment. _

Jack grabbed his gun from under the bed, stood up, and slowly walked out to where he thought the noise was coming from.

Right before he got there, the sounds stopped.

Then, something clicked in Jack’s brain.

Something about the pattern of the sounds.

“Can you do that again?” he asked, wondering if he was making a huge mistake.

A moment of quiet, just long enough for Jack to start thinking he must have been losing his mind after all, when:

_ Clang-clang-clang-clang clang clang-scraape-clang-clang... _

_ Friggin’ Morse code. _

Jack was tempted to run outside and leave this cursed apartment behind for good. He could come back in the morning to get his stuff. Screw the lease. But the fear was outweighed, ever so slightly, by the curiosity.

What was the ghost—he assumed it was a ghost—_ saying? _

He listened longer, until the sounds stopped.

H-E-L-L-O J-A-C-K

“How do you know my name?” asked Jack, pointing his gun in various directions.

W-O-N-T H-U-R-T Y-O-U

“Why should I believe you?”

L-I-S-T-E-N-I-N-G A-N-D I H-A-V-E-N-T Y-E-T

“That’s reassuring,” Jack groused. “And why’ve you been eavesdropping anyway?”

C-A-N-T H-E-L-P I-T

Jack sighed. He hated everything about this. But the ghost did have a point—if it wanted to hurt him, it could have by now. 

_ Oh, I’m gonna regret this. _ “What’s your name?”

M-A-C

“Well, Mac, it looks like you and I are gonna be sharing space for a while, so let’s agree on some ground rules, ‘K?”

O-K

“First off, no being creepy. No watching me sleep, no writing on the mirror when I’m taking a shower, none of that. Got it?”

W-A-S-N-T G-O-N-N-A

Jack gave the empty air a dubious look. “Then how did you know to wake me up?”

L-O-U-D

Jack took a deep breath and did his best to ignore how embarrassing it was that a _ ghost _ had heard him having a nightmare and decided that intervention was needed. “Second, you leave me alone when I’m trying to sleep. No more of this clanging and chills at two A.M. stuff. Can’t you just talk to me during the day, if you wanna talk so bad?”

S-T-R-O-N-G-E-R A-T N-I-G-H-T

Jack sighed. “‘Course you are. In that case, can you keep it to before midnight?”

Y-O-U N-E-E-D-E-D H-E-L-P

“I’m fine,” Jack snapped. “What do you know, anyway?”

W-A-S A-R-M-Y

That stopped Jack in his tracks.

“You were Army too? What branch?”

E-O-D

“You were a bomb nerd?” Jack smiled a little. “Used to be my job to keep guys like you from getting shot. Hang on, you are a guy, right?”

Y-E-S

“Cool.” The name “Mac” was just ambiguous enough that Jack had felt the need to check. The vast majority of EOD techs—of army people in general—were male, but there were always exceptions, and he didn’t want to offend the ghost, in case it—he—decided to stop being so friendly. 

“Third...” Jack wasn’t sure if he wanted to say this, but decided he might as well go all in, if he was gonna do this at all. “We need to find a faster way to talk. And less painful.”

S-O-R-R-Y

Jack’s mouth quirked at the irony of Mac apologizing for making unpleasant noises by making more unpleasant noises. Still, he knew he was trying his best. “So, how else do you think you could talk? Could you control a pen to write, or something? Or a keyboard well enough to type?”

D-O-N-T K-N-O-W

“How do you not know?”

D-I-E-D T-W-O W-E-E-K-S A-G-O

Jack swallowed hard.

Two weeks ago, the Humvee he’d been driving with Tadpole in the passenger’s seat had run over an IED. He’d swerved just in time to avoid getting them blown to bits, but the direction he’d swerved meant he’d taken the worst of it—as it should be. He’d been in Medical right next to a guy who kept asking about his partner.

_ Shit _.

His partner Mac.

“Hang on,” said Jack, “I think I was in Medical with your partner.”

C-H-A-R-L-I-E-?

“Don’t know his name, but he was asking about you. When they told him you didn’t make it...”

N-O-T H-I-S F-A-U-L-T

“I’m sure it wasn’t.” _ But I’m not sure he knows that. _

Silence.

Jack shook the thought that maybe if he’d been Mac’s Overwatch he’d still be alive out of his head. No sense dwelling on what he couldn’t change.

“Anyway,” said Jack, “You wanna try the pen thing? Or the keyboard?”

Y-E-S

Jack got a pen and some paper, then grabbed his laptop and opened it to a word processing document. “Knock yourself out.”

The keys of the laptop started clicking. After a moment, the laptop started to give off smoke. Very shortly, the screen went dark. “Really?” said Jack.

O-O-P-S

Jack took a deep breath. He’d take it in to the shop tomorrow. He tried fervently not to think about the time when he’d have just taken it to Riley to fix. “How about the pen?”

Slowly, the pen floated up into the air, touched down on the paper, and sent it sliding off the table.

They tried again, this time with Jack holding the paper down. A few incoherent squiggles appeared.

Jack sighed.

It was going to be a long night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack goes to the doctor and gets some bad news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This chapter contains references to PTSD and mood swings because of a concussion. Sorry it's so short. Hope you enjoy!

When the sun came up the next morning, Jack groaned.

He’d  _ meant _ to grab at least an hour or two of sleep, he really had. But he had an early doctor’s appointment, so that wasn’t an option. Oh well. He supposed he could nap later.

_ Sorry, _ Mac wrote in his newly acquired, incredibly messy scrawl.  _ I didn’t mean to keep you up so late. _

“So early, more like.”

_ I can’t stay. It’s getting really hard to hold the pen. _

“It’s okay, go... do whatever ghosts do in the daytime.”

Mac’s scrawl was getting messier and messier as the sun continued to climb.  _ We hang around, same as always, we’re just... _ The writing faded into illegibility, and the pen clattered to the table.

“If you’re still around, you did good,” said Jack. “I have to go out for a while, I’ll be back in a couple hours.” He was glad no one was around to see him talking to empty air.

Riley. Riley would have made fun of him relentlessly.

Jack swallowed a lump in his throat as he made his way to the car.

...

Sitting on the exam table in the doctor’s office, Jack knew something was wrong.

He knew from the look in the doctor’s eyes. She looked almost... sympathetic? It wasn’t quite pity, but it was too close for Jack’s comfort.

“So when can I go back?” asked Jack, ignoring the part of his brain that was telling him it already knew the answer.

“I’m sorry,” said the doctor. “This injury is going to limit your physical capabilities for the rest of your life. The Army would never clear you.”

The doctor kept talking, but Jack couldn’t hear what she was saying. All he could hear was the phrase echoing in his head, the one he’d never wanted applied to himself.  _ Career ender. _

Well, at least he’d gone out protecting one of his bomb nerds.

He’d kind of expected to die doing that, though. Not be left with a vast, empty  _ life _ stretching out in front of him and nothing to fill it with.

“Do you have any questions for me?” the doctor asked, and Jack was just aware enough to shake his head.

“In that case, keep up with your exercises, they should help you restore as much function as possible. And thank you for your service. The waiting room is that way.” The doctor pointed down the hall.

Jack made his way down the hall, more conscious of his brace and limp than he’d been in a while.

When he got back to his car, in the darkness of the parking garage, he put his head down on the steering wheel and cried.

...

Jack didn’t especially want to go home.

If he’d been alone, it would have been fine. But with Mac there... he just didn’t feel up to company at the moment. Even invisible, silent company.

But it wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go.

When Jack got home, he slammed the door behind himself and immediately went to bed. He knew better than to hope he would wake up and this would all be a bad dream, but at the very least, getting some sleep might help him sort through everything.

Sleep did not happen.

After about an hour of lying there spinning his wheels, Jack got up and made himself coffee. After that, he picked up the sheet of paper with his physical therapy exercises written on it.

He stared at it for a moment.  _ If I’m never going back in the field, what’s the point? _

He was completely useless. He couldn’t help Riley, he couldn’t be the protector he’d long prided himself on being.

Last time he’d felt this way, he’d been benched because of severe PTSD. That wound, the wound to his mind, had eventually healed to the point that he could do his job again.

This one never would.

Jack felt tears gathering in his eyes again, and crumpled up the sheet of paper.

He hated this. The doctor said mood swings were a normal side effect of the concussion he’d gotten in the incident that sent him home, but that didn’t make them any less humiliating—even if no one was there to see.

Well, no one except Mac.

Jack looked up and half-smiled.

A tissue was shakily floating across the room towards him.

Jack grabbed it out of the air, wiped his eyes, and blew his nose. “Thanks,” he said, shoving down the embarrassment. He knew Mac was just trying to help.

The next thing he knew, the crumpled sheet of paper with his PT instructions on it was smoothing itself out and floating through the air to stop a few inches from his face.

Jack sighed. “Okay, okay,” he said. “Bossy.”

The temperature in the room dropped about ten degrees.

“Yeah, I’m getting up!”

Jack got out of his chair, and the room instantly warmed.

Jack rolled his eyes slightly.

He definitely lived with the world’s weirdest ghost.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack calls an old friend, and gets some advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I didn't expect Caleb Worthy to play such a prominent role, he just sort of... showed up. This chapter contains references to domestic abuse. Hope you enjoy!

When the sun went down that evening, Jack grabbed a pen and the notebook he’d bought after a therapist years ago had suggested he keep a journal (he’d never written anything in it) and sat down at the kitchen table. “Hey Mac,” he called. “You around?”

After a moment, the pen floated up off the table and touched down on the notebook, which Jack held open and steady.  _ Never left. _

Jack took a breath. “Thanks for looking out for me today.” He smiled slightly. “You must be getting stronger. I didn’t think you could move stuff during the day.”

_ I didn’t know I could, I just tried really hard. _

“So maybe motivation’s part of it?” Jack speculated. “In which case, I’m honored.”

_ Not like there’s that much interesting in my, um, life besides you. _

Jack snorted. “Gonna ignore that.” Then, the smile dropped off his face. “Hang on. Why are you haunting this apartment? I mean, it seems like a pretty big coincidence... I get hurt the same time and place you die, and then I come back to the States and—hang on.” Jack gave the empty air above the pen a suspicious look. “You’re not haunting this apartment at all, are you?”

The pen was still for a moment.

Then:

_ No. I’m haunting  _ _ you. _

“Why? I didn’t even  _ know _ you,” Jack snapped.

_ I don’t know, I’m sorry! Look, this isn’t ideal for me either. I meant to follow Charlie, to make sure he was okay. I guess I somehow just... got confused? I’d say I’d leave if you wanted me to, but... I can’t. _

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

_ I mean, if I go more than 50 yards from you it gets uncomfortable. At 75 it’s painful. I can push it to 100 before I black out and wake up right next to you. _

“Great.” At least it was enough distance for Jack to have some privacy. But still. The knowledge that Mac had been within 300 feet of him since he’d been hurt... “Hang on, you were in the doctor’s office?” He took a breath. “And in the car, after?”

_ I’m sorry, I didn’t want to be, I couldn’t help it... _

Jack shut his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them, he gave a short, sharp laugh.

_ I stayed in the waiting room, if it helps? _

“Yeah, that helps.” Jack sighed. “So you know what’s up, then?”

_ I can guess. Career ender? _

“Yup.” Jack couldn’t tell Mac about the other things besides the Army he could have been doing that his injury would just as effectively halt. Jack didn’t know how secrecy laws applied to ghosts, but he was pretty sure not telling anyone meant not telling  _ anyone. _ It was one thing to tell his dad’s headstone state secrets, but telling Mac—who seemed perfectly capable of communicating with the outside world—was something else entirely.

_ I’m sorry. _

Jack nodded.

They sat in silence for a moment, until the pen started to move again.

_ I think you should call Caleb. _

“Why?”

_ You need to talk. I mean, I’m listening, but I realize talking to someone you can’t see or hear might not be very satisfying. And you don’t know me that well. So call Caleb. _

“I’m not getting out of this, am I?”

The temperature in the room dropped.

Jack sighed. “Fine. Later.”

_ Right now. _

Jack sighed and picked up the phone, and the chill abated.

<Hey Caleb. You free?>

Within a minute, Jack’s phone rang.

Jack picked up. “Hey.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine, I just... I got some news, is all.”

“What news?”

Jack took a deep breath. “I talked to the doctor, I’m benched for life, and... my ex Diane called. Her daughter Riley’s in prison.” Jack’s voice shook. “I was with Diane from the time Riley was twelve until she was sixteen, I watched her grow up...”

“Oh God,” said Caleb. “Riley was the one you kept going on about in those Christmas cards, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Jack, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” Jack took a shaky breath. “I just... I can’t help Riley, and I can’t do the thing I’m best at, so...”

“Hey,” said Caleb. “Stop it, right there. You’re good at a lot of things. You’re good at adapting to any situation, which is going to help you here. C’mon. When have I ever known Jack Dalton to back down from a challenge? That’s all this is, just one more challenge. You up for it?”

Jack smiled a little. “Yeah. It’d be okay if it was just about me. But Riley...”

“Yeah, that’s a tough one. How long’s she in for?”

“Five years. She’s one year in.”

“What for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Hacking.”

“Sounds like she made a mistake and needs to learn from it. And I know that’s a hard sell for any parent—and yes, I know you still feel like a parent to Riley, I can hear it in your voice—but in the end, all you can really do is be there for them. Have you gone to visit her?”

“She doesn’t wanna see me,” said Jack. “I... didn’t leave on the best of terms.”

“Care to explain?”

“Well, Riley didn’t know it, but her dad was an abusive ex to her mom. He comes over one night, starts slapping her around, so I tune him up, Riley sees. I couldn’t stick around after that.”

“You said she’s in prison for hacking?”

Jack blinked. “Why does that matter?”

“Because it means she’s not stupid, and you know it. Ten to one she knew all about her dad and his issues. And I’m pretty sure that, somewhere, you knew that. So why’d you  _ really _ leave?”

Jack sighed. After a long moment, he spoke. “You know about  _ my _ issues. Hell, you were there for a solid third of ‘em. I just didn’t think that... someone like me... could ever really be a father to someone like her. So, when I saw things heading in that direction...”

“You panicked, and took the first excuse you could find to get out?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, I’ve got some news for you—it’s too late to try to keep her from getting contaminated, or whatever you were thinking. She’s in prison for five years, she’s gonna be messed up when she gets out. Only question is, how many people who love her are gonna be waiting on the other side?” Caleb paused. “If you want to be one of those people, you need to start rebuilding that relationship now.”

Jack took a deep breath. “Thanks.”

“Anytime. You good now?”

“I’m good.”

“Good night then.”

“Good night.”

Jack hung up.

_ He’s right, you know. _

Jack glared at the paper, then slightly above it. “Did you hear both sides of that conversation?”

_ Yeah. I was curious. _

Jack sighed. “Fine. I’ll go visit Riley.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, the next chapter is written and will be up when I write the one after that. Best!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack goes to visit Riley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! I'm FINALLY posting! Sorry about ghosting for a while (pun intended). My physical health has been pretty much in the drain this semester (my migraines are making the transition to chronic, yippee!) and it's been about all I can do to keep up with my schoolwork. The next chapter isn't written, but I figured I'd been sitting on this one long enough, so I'm posting it anyway, with notice that I have literally no idea when the next one is going up. I promise, though, I'm not abandoning this, and I won't if I can at all help it.
> 
> This chapter takes place in a prison and contains references to past domestic and child abuse. Hope you enjoy!

Jack sat across from Riley, looking at her through the transparent wall between them, and wondered how he could have gotten everything so wrong.

Maybe, just maybe, if he’d stayed this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe the kid he’d helped teach how to drive, taken care of when she was sick, and taken to Pizza Palace when he wanted to talk to her about something important wouldn’t be sitting there in an orange jumpsuit. Maybe she wouldn’t have that shuttered, almost bored look slammed into place over her eyes, covering any hint of emotion except annoyance with Jack’s mere presence. Maybe he’d be able to give her a hug.

Maybe she’d take it.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Riley’s voice was sharp, snapping.

Jack took a deep breath. “I’m here to say I’m sorry.”

“Little late for that.”

“You’re right.”

Riley gave him a distinctly unimpressed look. “Oh, you think you can just waltz right in here and go all mea culpa, get me to forgive you just like that?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then why the hell are you here?”

“Because I owe you an explanation, okay? So will you hear me out for one minute?”

Riley looked at him, calculating. “Your time starts now.”

“You knew your dad was abusing your mom, right?”

Riley rolled her eyes. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

“No, I thought you were a kid who wanted to think the best of her parents—”

“He was never my dad.” Jack could tell Riley had been going for dismissive, but it didn’t quite work.

A pang went through Jack’s heart. He kept going.

“Anyway, I thought you’d be mad at me, and hurt. And I, I didn’t want you to have to deal with that. So I ran.”

Riley breathed out harshly. “Coward.”

“Yeah, I know. But... there was another reason.”

“Thirty-five seconds.”

“Ri, I... I couldn’t tell you this when you were a kid, but you’re not a kid anymore, so I can tell you now. You know I was in the army. I’ve taken a lot of lives, and done some things... I just...”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Riley. “You think, growing up with Elwood, I didn’t learn how to tell who would hurt me and who wouldn’t? I don’t care what you’ve done, I  _ know _ you’d never hurt me. I know you’re safe.”

A block of ice settled in Jack’s chest.  _ He was hurting her too. _ But he couldn’t let his reaction show on his face.

“Riley...”

“Listen,” said Riley. “Whatever you were to me, you lost that right when you left.” She looked Jack dead in the eye. “Time’s up. Now go.”

Jack took a deep breath. “I’ll be back next week,” he said, standing up. “I made a huge mistake when I left. But I’m not going to make that mistake again. This time, I’m not going anywhere.”

Riley gave him an evaluative look. “We’ll see about that.”

...

When Jack got back to the car and started it, the radio promptly turned off.

“Mac...”

Then, it came on, tuned between channels, in a series of short bursts.

Jack’s mind immediately started decoding the Morse.

H-O-W-D I-T G-O

“About like I expected.”

T-H-A-T B-A-D-?

“Yeah, that bad. Think I might have a chance, though. She all but said she used to think of me as her dad. And yeah, she’s pissed, but I bet she’ll come around.” Jack sighed. “I just have to prove I’m not gonna abandon her again.”

A moment of quiet.

Then, Jack smiled. “Hey, you must be getting better at manifesting during the day, if you can talk to me with the radio.”

M-A-Y-B-E

“Definitely.”

Jack didn’t know if it was his imagination or not, but he could have sworn he felt a sense of  _ pride _ pervading the car.

It mingled with his own fervent hope as they drove home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter was interesting, because I had to figure out how Riley would react to Jack's presence in the absence of an opportunity to save the world... let me know how I did? I wish you all the best!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac and Jack call Charlie Robinson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! Still not abandoning this! Sorry about the long gap between chapters. I was very busy and caught two colds, one right after the other. But now I am (mostly) recovered and (completely) done with my schoolwork, so we're good and I can get back to writing! Yay! This chapter contains some swearing and references to injury and death. Hope you enjoy!

As soon as the sun went down that evening, Jack pulled out the old notebook again and sat at the table. It was starting to feel almost like a routine.

Maybe it was.

“Hey Mac,” he called. “You listening?”

_ What else would I be doing? _

“I dunno, ghost stuff?”

_ I do plenty of that when it isn’t sundown. _

Jack smiled a little. It was kind of nice, knowing that Mac liked their little routine.

But Jack had something he wanted to say tonight.

“Mac, how old were you when you died?”

_ 20 _

_ Jesus.  _ Jack had been expecting something like that, but actually seeing it confirmed was still painful.

He’d only been one year older than Riley.

“And you died around two and a half weeks ago.”

_ Are you going somewhere with this? _

“Yes. It’s gotta be rough, being alive one minute and dead the next, and then having to follow some stranger around instead of your partner—what was that, by the way, some metaphysical mix-up?”

_ I don’t know. _

“So what I’m asking is, is there anything you want me to do for you? Any messages you want me to pass on, any last requests, anything of that sort?”

The pen hovered for a long moment.

Then:

_ I want to call Charlie and Bozer. _

“Who’s Bozer?”

_ My best friend. We’ve been friends since middle school. _

Jack’s brow wrinkled. “Any family you want me to call?”

_ I don’t have any. _ Written quickly.

Jack decided not to press, although that statement had provoked an intense curiosity. “All right, we can call Bozer and Charlie. You want to write down what you want me to say?”

_ Sounds good. _

“Who first?”

_ Charlie. _ He wrote down a number.

Jack punched the number into his phone, praying Charlie was the sort of person to pick up for unknown numbers.

Meanwhile, Mac was scribbling something down.

The man on the other end picked up, and Jack promptly put him on speaker. “Hello?”

“22 days in, paperclip, 3 seconds on the clock,” Jack read.

“What... how...” Charlie sputtered, voice raw with pain. “I don’t know who you are... what the  _ fuck?” _

“Hey,” said Jack gently, “I know this is gonna sound crazy, and you have no idea who I am. But hopefully I just gave you a reason to believe me when I say that I’m being haunted, and my ghostly acquaintance just told me to call you and say that.”

“Mac?” asked Charlie tentatively.

The pen moved across the paper.

“He says, ‘right here’,” said Jack.

“Okay...” said Charlie cautiously. “Mac, if you’re there, what were the rules about gum?”

“He says, ‘foil wrappers only, and no cinnamon flavor.’”

“God, Mac, it’s really you.” Charlie took a shaky breath. “I can’t believe it.”

“He wants to know if you’re okay,” said Jack.

“I see you haven’t changed.” Charlie’s voice shifted tone. “He was always worried about himself last, no matter what.” His voice shifted back. “Mac, you’re the one who’s  _ dead. _ Are  _ you _ okay?”

“He says he’s fine, and that if you’re guilt-tripping yourself over what happened, you should stop that, because it was in no way your fault.”

“Only you could be literally dead and say you were fine.”

“He says you’re avoiding the question. Are  _ you _ okay?”

A slight pause. “I’m fine.”

“He says, ‘I know you well enough to know that’s a load of crap. What happened?’”

A sigh. “I got some pretty bad burns. And Mac, before you start guilt-tripping yourself about that, there was nothing you could’ve done differently. Nothing either of us could’ve done. We set a company record for most IEDs defused in a day. No matter how good you are, when you do  _ anything _ that many times, you’re  _ going _ to mess up at some point. We were the best there was, we just... got unlucky.”

“He says he’s still sorry.”

“Did you hear a word I just said? It wasn’t your damn fault. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. You...” Charlie trailed off, sounding like he was collecting himself for a moment before speaking again. “You could’ve saved the world, man. You were amazing. Are amazing, I’m sure, but... I don’t know how much of a life you can live, being a ghost. You shouldn’t’ve died so young. And I know life’s not fair, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be pissed about it on your behalf.”

“He says he appreciates that, but it’s still not your fault.”

“Okay, then can we agree it was neither of our faults, and it was just a stroke of shitty luck?”

“He says, ‘sure.’”

“Good.” A pause. “So, uh, how’s the afterlife?”

“He says, ‘I don’t know, I’m not in it. I’m just hanging around the living world.’”

Charlie snorted. “Well then, how’s being a ghost?”

“He says, ‘it’s hard to explain.’ What’s  _ that _ supposed to mean?”

“You haven’t changed a bit, have you?”

“I’m not gonna read that!” The temperature in the room dropped. “Fine. He says, ‘I think being—” Jack paused. “In-cor-poreal counts as a change, Charlie.’ Also, who the fuck uses words like ‘incorporeal’ in casual conversation? Your partner is  _ weird, _ man.”

Charlie made a soft  _ chuff _ ing sound. “Yeah, but he’s pretty great.” A pause. “He  _ is _ pretty great. I don’t have to say  _ was _ anymore.” A shaky breath from the other end of the line, like Charlie was composing himself. “Thank you for calling me, Mr...”

“Jack is fine.”

“Thank you for calling me, Jack.”

“Hey, no problem. Mac asked me to. Besides, I was in the army too. Delta, then Overwatch for bomb nerds like you guys. I know the feeling.”

“Well, thank you for translating. And Mac, thank you for calling.”

“He says, ‘of course.’ And you should know that you were the first person he wanted me to call. We’re about to call someone named Bozer—”

“Mac, you called me before Bozer?”

“He says, ‘Bozer doesn’t feel responsible.’ And he has a point.”

“Well, I’ll let you get off the phone and do that, then.”

“Before you go, there’s something else you need to know,” said Jack. “And Mac’s probably not going to tell you this himself, so I will. Mac’s ghost? He’s not haunting my apartment. He’s haunting me—because you and I were in Medical together. Some sort of mix-up.”

“Jesus,” whispered Charlie. “Mac, if you’re keeping yourself in some sort of limbo because you’re worried about me, you can cut that shit out, okay? Yeah, it’s amazing talking to you again, but if you’re hurting, or if you’d be happier if you moved on, or even just... let go, then... don’t let me stop you. I’m okay, really. And I’ll miss you, but I’ll be okay. All right? I just need you to know that.”

“He says, ‘Thank you.’”

“Of course.” Charlie sighed. “Goodbye, Mac. And if this is the last time... I’m glad I get to say it was an honor being your partner.”

Jack took a deep breath. He knew he had to be here to read Mac’s words aloud, but that didn’t make him feel any less like an intruder. “He says, ‘you, too.’”

“Goodbye.” Charlie hung up.

Jack looked up at the air where he guessed Mac to be. “Do you want to take a break now, or do you want to call Bozer?”

The reply was immediate.  _ Call Bozer. _ Mac wrote down another number.  _ Wait, but first I want to try something. If this works, take a picture. _

“Okay,” said Jack, pulling up the camera function on his phone and looking around.

At first, he didn’t see anything. Then, a patch of air started to... ripple. Not quite like heat waves, although that was the closest thing Jack had ever seen to what was happening. More like a ripple in space itself.

After that, an image slowly started to fade in, with the ripples still going in the air around it. An image of a young man, in a combat uniform, with messy blond hair and a look of fierce concentration.  _ Jesus Christ, _ he looked so young. Younger than twenty, definitely.

Slowly, the image gained saturation and came into focus, and Jack snapped a picture. Not a second later, the look of concentration on the man’s face turned to frustration, and the image blinked out, leaving empty air.

Jack looked at the phone screen, where an image of the man was preserved. He held it up. “How’s that?”

No response.

“That wiped you out, huh?” Jack said gently. “Can you hear me?”

No reply.

“It’s okay if you can’t communicate right now. We can call Bozer tomorrow night. I’ll send him this when we do. If you can hear me, you did a great job. And I’m glad I know what you look like now.” Jack paused. “Huh. I guess I should’ve asked your full name. Mine’s Jack Dalton, but I’m guessing you know that by now. Anyway. I’ll let you rest. I need to eat dinner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is not written, so no guarantees, but should hopefully be up a /lot/ sooner than this one was! Best!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! Thanks to a lovely comment by RaisaIbex, I decided to give this fic one more chapter. This chapter contains a brief, non-serious mention of stalking and references to injury, explosions, and death. Hope you enjoy!

The next night, Jack was back in his accustomed spot, with his phone and the journal, holding his breath.

He didn’t know if showing himself had wiped Mac out enough that he’d be unable to communicate for a while, or if it had been just a short-term thing.

(He refused to consider any options beyond that.)

After a moment, Jack felt the room grow chilly, and smiled.

“Hey, Mac.”

_ Hey. _

“So, do you want to call Bozer now?”

_ Yes. _ Mac wrote down a number.  _ Tell him there’s a picture of him and me up in the lab. We were eleven and twelve. _

Jack dialed, and a man picked up. “Hello?”

“Hello. My name is Jack Dalton. I’m sorry, this is going to be a shock. There’s a picture of you and your friend Mac up in the lab. You were eleven and twelve—”

“Are you some kind of creepy stalker?”

“No! No. Mac told me. He’s haunting my apartment. Here, I have proof.”

Jack sent the picture.

There was a clatter from the other end.

“Holy shit,” whispered Bozer. “Sorry, dropped my phone.”

“That’s okay,” said Jack. “Mac’s here, if you want to talk to him. He can hear you, but he can’t talk—he can write, though, so I can read what he says.”

“Okay,” said Bozer. “Hey Mac. God, I’ve missed you.”

“He says he’s missed you too. And that he appreciated the cookies and the letters.”

“I’m glad.” Bozer took a shaky breath. “Must be lonely, being a ghost.”

“He says, ‘it was until I started talking to Jack. I did that when I couldn’t stand it anymore.’ I’m... trying not to be offended by that.”

“Speaking of which, how did you end up haunting Jack’s apartment? Don’t ghosts usually attach to places or people they had a connection to?”

“He’s telling me to explain that. His partner Charlie and I were in Medical at the same time. He was supposed to attach to Charlie, wound up attaching to me instead. Honestly, much as I’m sorry he has to deal with my stubborn ass, he’s been good to have around. You have good taste in friends.”

“Don’t I know it.” Bozer’s voice broke a little. “That sounds like the plot of a movie.”

“He says, ‘kinda does.’”

“Hang on,” said Bozer. “Jack, you were able to take a picture of Mac. And Mac, you can obviously communicate. So, if ghosts can do all that... why don’t we all know they exist?”

“Really, dude?” said Jack. “Sorry, man, not talking to you. Mac says he won’t get into the details, but there’s a lot of physics and math involved in manifesting. He has to understand how his energy relates to the energy in the world around him, basically.”

“That... actually makes sense,” said Bozer. “Mac, I’m really glad you’re a genius right now.”

“He’s asking you if you have any new project ideas.”

“Not since you...” Bozer swallowed. “But there was one I hadn’t told you about yet.”

Bozer launched into a long and ridiculous sci-fi narrative, Mac occasionally writing comments in the journal—mostly supportive, sometimes about how a particular bit of science would never work and what Bozer could do instead.

They stayed up talking, with Jack as the conduit, for an hour.

“Well,” said Bozer sadly, “I should let you both go. Thank you so much, Jack.”

“You’re welcome,” Jack said.

“Mac?” asked Bozer. “Are you going to stick around? Or are you... moving on?”

“He says he doesn’t know, but he’s probably sticking around.”

“Well, just in case... goodbye. You’re the best best friend anyone could ask for.”

“He says, ‘so are you.’”

“All right,” said Bozer. “Bye.” He hung up.

Then, something occurred to Jack.

“So... why are you still here?”

The pen glided across the paper.  _ What do you mean? _

“You know what I mean. Why haven’t you... moved on, or whatever? I mean, not that I’m complaining,” Jack hastened to add. “I’m glad you’re here, just for me. But I can’t help but wonder if that’s the best thing for you. Aren’t ghosts usually stuck on Earth because they have... unfinished business or whatever?”

A pause.

_ I don’t know, _ Mac wrote.  _ All I know is, when I died, I think I could have “moved on”, but I didn’t. _

“Because you didn’t know if Charlie was okay?”

_ Yeah.  _ The pen stopped moving for a moment, then started up again, moving frantically over the page.  _ There was an IED, and we were supposed to be disarming it. When we realized we weren’t going to be able to do that in time, we took it out into the desert, left it away from people, and tried to run. We weren’t fast enough. Charlie got burned, but I got the worst of it. It hurt so much, and then... it just kind of... stopped hurting. And it was dark, and this sounds silly, but there really was a light up ahead. But I couldn’t leave Charlie. I tried to go back to my body, but it felt wrong. It wasn’t that it hurt, although it did, it was more just—I felt like I wasn’t supposed to be there. I couldn’t stand it for very long, even though I tried. But I couldn’t leave. So I wound up a little above my body, watching Charlie. I tried to give him whatever strength I had, if that makes any sense. And eventually some people got there, and took us away. And I followed Charlie. You know the rest. I don’t know why I attached to you instead of him, but I did. _

“Now hold up.” Jack looked sharply towards the region of space he guessed Mac to occupy. “That explains why you didn’t move on right away. But you know Charlie’s safe now. Hell, you know  _ I’m  _ doing better than I have in ages, if you’re worried about that. So why haven’t you moved on?”

The pen hovered above the page for a long moment.

Then:

_ I’m scared. _

Jack tried hard to suppress a smile, and was only partially successful. “Aw, kid.”

_ Shut up. _

With great effort, Jack wiped the last traces of the smile from his face. “What are you scared of?”

_ I don’t know what’s going to happen. What if it’s awful? What if it’s just—dark—forever? _

“Do you believe in Heaven?”

_ I don’t know! It’s all a big question mark for me. _

“Well, you said it yourself, there was a light. So I doubt it’s gonna be dark forever.” Jack paused.

He had an idea. It was a crazy idea, and one that was as likely to offend Mac as make him feel better. But he had to offer.

“Hey, you know what?”

The pen tilted in a go-on gesture.

“Here’s an idea—and you can say no. I figure I’ve got about, oh, thirty-five years left in me, if all goes well. How about you stick around until it’s time for me to go, and then we head off to find out what’s next together?”

The pen was shaking slightly.  _ You mean it? _

“I do mean it. That way you don’t have to be scared, ‘cause I’ll be right there with you.”

For a moment, the pen was still.

Then:

_ Thank you. _

“You got it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! Unfortunately, as you're probably already aware, I've basically abandoned this fic. I tried to leave this chapter on a note that could be an ending. That having been said, here are some notes on where I originally intended this fic to go:
> 
> Diane finds out that Jack visited Riley in prison without telling her. She's not happy about this. Jack realizes he probably should have told Diane, Diane realizes Jack has good intentions, they calm down, they eventually fall back in love.
> 
> Jack gets a job. Not sure what.
> 
> Riley still gets out of prison early on conditional release to work for a "think tank". Jack meets her coworkers, pulls her aside, and says something like, "now, purely hypothetically, if you were ever recruited to a secret government organization, here are some things you might need to know, which I totally did not learn in any way that I shouldn't be telling you about, now get in the car I'm going to teach you how to shake a tail."
> 
> Thank you for reading, and have a good one!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! I hope you liked this! If you did, please let me know below!


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